Scan barcode
A review by dalhausen
Stoner by John Williams
5.0
I was not impressed or very interested in Stoner for the first 60 or so pages, and left this book barely read for two years before returning to it this week. It might have made a weak impression at first, but I cried off and on for 45 minutes after finishing the book. Stoner and the characters around him are, for the most part, people who do not know themselves intimately, whether by ignorance or blunt refusal, and who cannot communicate themselves clearly to others. His only intimates are parents who were stilted in their self-expression, a wife who is seemingly incapable of expressing her feelings for propriety's sake (while showing overt distress, unhappiness, and resentment), a child who eventually refuses to communicate herself to either of them, and a single friend who politely refuses to acknowledge the eccentricities of his marriage.
It is not surprising that Stoner is often confused and unable to claim emotional space, nor that he finds such a solace in literature, or that he proceeds stubbornly but safely through each of his life's disappointments without grand gestures. I was nearly halfway through the book before I realized that I actually cared for Stoner and that I was desperately hoping anything in his life would improve. As he continued to try to do what he thought was best in each situation and withdrew further into an inevitable solitude, that from which he was born and could not escape, I felt aggrieved for this person and the pure hope that he retained for connection.
This is probably what people mean when they call something a "sleeper hit." It's the uncomic equivalent of the Cohen brothers' A Serious Man. It was a complete surprise to me when I ended by feeling so much for this unexpectedly profound, sad, and simplistic novel.
"He had wanted friendship and the closeness of friendship that might hold him in the race of mankind... He had wanted the singleness and the still connective passion of marriage; he had had that, too, and did not know what to do with it, and it had died. He had wanted love; and he had had love, and had relinquished it, had let it go into the chaos of potentiality."
It is not surprising that Stoner is often confused and unable to claim emotional space, nor that he finds such a solace in literature, or that he proceeds stubbornly but safely through each of his life's disappointments without grand gestures. I was nearly halfway through the book before I realized that I actually cared for Stoner and that I was desperately hoping anything in his life would improve. As he continued to try to do what he thought was best in each situation and withdrew further into an inevitable solitude, that from which he was born and could not escape, I felt aggrieved for this person and the pure hope that he retained for connection.
This is probably what people mean when they call something a "sleeper hit." It's the uncomic equivalent of the Cohen brothers' A Serious Man. It was a complete surprise to me when I ended by feeling so much for this unexpectedly profound, sad, and simplistic novel.
"He had wanted friendship and the closeness of friendship that might hold him in the race of mankind... He had wanted the singleness and the still connective passion of marriage; he had had that, too, and did not know what to do with it, and it had died. He had wanted love; and he had had love, and had relinquished it, had let it go into the chaos of potentiality."